Free Soul Thief (Dark Souls) by Anne Hope Page B

failed to plant a suggestion in Angie at the subway station, why she’d appeared to recognize him when she’d walked in to find him standing in the reception area at Reach yesterday.
    “Which means,” Marcus continued, “whatever memories you suppressed could eventually reassert themselves. Especially if you stick around.”
    Adrian couldn’t allow that to happen. Angie couldn’t remember the things he’d told her, the way Kyros had raped her spirit, the impossible feats she’d witnessed. Now that Angie had been cloaked, there was no reason for him to remain in her life.
    He gazed up at one of the penthouse windows, beyond which she lay soaking in the tub, completely oblivious to his presence. Something warm and cloying lumped in his throat. Unfamiliar pain sliced through him, more searing than a blade soaked in angel’s blood.
    Somehow, he had to find the strength to let her go.
     
     
    Adrian didn’t show up at Reach the next day, or the day after that. By the third day, Angie was ready to crawl out of her skin. She sat behind one of the desks in the hotline room, staring at the unnaturally quiet phone, listening to her heart break.
    The inexplicable sense of loss that gripped her, the desperation she felt deep in her gut to see Adrian’s face one more time, made absolutely no sense. The man was a stranger, just another volunteer. How many people had she known who’d quit after a single day of work at Reach? Adrian’s absence was nothing new, nothing surprising.
    Why then did she feel she’d just lost something immeasurably valuable? And she wasn’t just talking about the key to her memories. It was as if a chunk of her soul had been ripped from her chest. Based on the way she was brooding, one would think she’d lost the love of her life or something, which was impossible. A woman didn’t fall in love with a man she’d only known a day. Did she?
    Sure, she’d heard of love at first sight but—as romantic as the concept was—she’d never really believed in it. Love wasn’t a bolt of lightning. It was something that grew from a seed of attraction, a bud that needed to be nurtured in order to bloom. And yet here she was, completely flattened by emotions she was helpless to understand.
    The shrill ring of the phone rescued her from her contemplative misery. She grabbed the receiver and brought it to her ear. “Reach hotline.”
    “You didn’t keep your promise.” The voice on the other end of the line was familiar.
    “Excuse me?”
    “You told me you’d help my brother, but he’s still sleeping in the subway, curled up in a dark corner like a rat.”
    Recollection sparked to life in her mind. “The Green Line, corner of Lexington and 59th Street. You’re Max, right?”
    “That’s right. You were supposed to bring my kid brother to that halfway house of yours. I’ve gone to see Ricky, talked to him, but he won’t listen to reason. He ain’t never coming back home. He and my old man, they don’t really see eye to eye. You’re the only hope he’s got.”
    She remembered heading to the subway station a few nights ago, searching for the boy. But after that, her memory grew fuzzy. “I didn’t find him.”
    “He’s there. Even after the beating the place took. Saw him just last night. I told him about Reach, but he just blew me off.”
    “And what makes you think I’ll have better luck?”
    The line went silent for several beats. “Because you’ve got no history with him. He’s got no reason to be pigheaded with you. And because you’ve got this way about you. I can hear it in your voice. You always know the right thing to say.”
    Angie was flattered, though she had a hard time accepting there was anything special about her. Half the time, she didn’t know if she was coming or going, now more than ever. “I’ll give it another shot. Tonight,” she promised. “If Ricky’s there, I’ll find him.”

Chapter Fourteen
    The subway station at Lexington and 59th Street was closed